


Prototypes

by fictionalaspect



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-12
Updated: 2010-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:23:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan stumbles down the stairs and points at him accusingly. "You." He says. "You are totally Spencer from the future, what the <i>fuck.</i>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prototypes

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the incomparable [](http://anoneknewmoose.livejournal.com/profile)[**anoneknewmoose**](http://anoneknewmoose.livejournal.com/) ♥

_"Ryan."_

"Hang on a sec--no, seriously, wait. It's. There's a thingy." Ryan's got a cable in his hand, and he's frowning. Spencer can see both his expression and the unwrapped cable through the plate glass. It's not helping his mood.

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to get spliced. Or exploded. If you explode me, I swear to Go--"

Spencer remembers a sucking noise, like a clogged vacuum. And light. There was a lot of light.

\--

The first thing that happens to Spencer Smith is he knocks his head directly against the ceiling, because apparently his old clothing closet isn't quite as large as he remembers. Or he got larger.

Also, he's in a _closet_, what the fuck. He bats a coat hanger away from his face viciously, ducking as the coat hanger obediently obeys the laws of physics and comes back for a return swing.

Spencer's pretty sure it could be worse, though. He could be dead, or in someone else's closet, or in someone else's _house_, but right now he's stepping on his favorite unicorn t-shirt from high school so he's pretty sure Jon got the settings right.

Also, again, he's not _dead_ and he still has all of his limbs. And his sanity. It's a point in his favor.

Spencer shoves the closet door open, stepping into the horrific mess that used to be his bedroom, and pulls out his phone, checking the time.   
   
1:32 PM! His phone informs him in large, bright numerals, although the date is off by about six years. He can't be positive but he's pretty sure no one is home right now---parents at work, sisters at school. He—or rather, his past self—is probably just leaving high school, actually, so Spencer needs to make this quick.   
    
He estimates he's got forty five before the failsafe kicks in and pulls him back. He needs to find a calendar, a computer, something. It's all well and good to be like "Hey, guys! I went back in time!" but Spencer would like some proof to back it up.

He shoves his bedroom door open (and seriously, _seriously_, Spencer did not remember his room being this messy, what the hell?), kicking shoes and school books out of the way before he heads downstairs to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.   
    
Pete had said to be careful with foods and liquids, something about quantum physics and mirror image tachyons and Alice in Wonderland and Ryan had been nodding along like yes, absolutely, he totally understood where Pete was coming from.

Which was good, because Spencer had no fucking clue what Pete had been talking about.

Spencer had just shrugged and said "But water's okay, right?" and Pete had sort of nodded, hesitantly. Which works out, because apparently time travel makes you really fucking thirsty.

It's weird, navigating his older body through the space in his childhood home. The furniture looks slightly smaller, newer, missing some of the scratches and spills because they haven't happened yet. Spencer sees the old, beat up TV that's he's currently using as his kitchen TV by the side of the entryway. It's still brand new, half-unpacked from the Styrofoam casing. There's soy milk in the fridge and Spencer stares at it for a few seconds until he remembers that yes, his mom had been on a weird health food kick that fall, had read some article about the healing power of soybeans and tried to force them all to drink it.   
    
Spencer grabs a glass and drinks water from the tap, instead. He looks out the kitchen window and all of the lawn furniture is still arranged off to the side, the garden beds bare because his mom was—is?—in the process of replanting perennials for next year. It gives him a strange feeling inside.

Spencer doesn't know why he'd expected it to be different, cardboard cuts from the past, one frozen moment in time. He had argued for this pretty fervently, maintaining it should be either Jon or himself to try it out the first time.   
    
(and hah, _Brendon_. Brendon had wanted to be the one to test it out. Uh. no. It's not even that Brendon's a spazz, but he'd had adjustment issues moving out of his parents house into an apartment five minutes away, for chrissake, even if he had pretended ignorance when Spencer pointed it out. Spencer had been pretty sure time travel would be a little more intense than missing your childhood room and that tree in your backyard.)   
    
He's pretty sure he isn't freaking out, exactly, but it's definitely the weirdest thing that's happened to him so far and he feels sort of unbalanced.

Or, well. He feels mildly unbalanced until he hears the crash of a cymbal and a steady backbeat start up from the basement. And then, yeah, he's kind of panicking.

\--

Meeting himself from the past would have been a lot cooler had Spencer not tripped and fallen down the basement stairs.

"So." Spencer sighs. "Well, that was awesome." He stands up, brushing his jeans off. His mouth seems to continue talking of its own accord. "I uh. Didn't think I--you'd be home from school yet."

His younger self stares at him and taps out a quick, ironic drum roll on the snare, one eyebrow raised at Spencer. He's wearing tight black jeans and a dark purple thrift-store T-shirt with "BAYSIDE EXPO 1983" written on it in garish, neon letters. Spencer will eventually lose it somewhere in England while they're on tour.

"Can I...help you?"

"I." Spencer frowns. He hadn't actually come up with anything for this eventuality. He'd just felt an overwhelming need to rush down to the basement as soon as he heard the sound of himself playing, which, in retrospect, is kind of dumb.   
    
(He's pretty sure, from the lack of fainting and freaking out, that his younger self doesn't actually recognize him, which. He doesn't look that different with a beard, c'mon. Apparently he was kind of dense.)   
    
"I'm a friend of Ryan's," he says, finally. It's...not a lie, at least. Ryan, for all his obvious social awkwardness, actually had a fair amount of friends at this age. Spencer's pretty sure he's not going to screw anything up too badly by pretending that he's just hear to listen to them practice. Or attempt to practice, anyway. Shit. Were they even a band, then? Spencer has no idea. He's kind of flying blind, his memories of high school having blurred into a general sort of "before" and "after" timeline.

Younger!Spencer just shrugs at him, unconcerned. "Okay. Like, from school, or whatever? You're...you look kind of old for high school."

Spencer shrugs. "I matured early," he says, and scratches his beard.

Younger!Spencer brushes his hair out of his eyes and Spencer can feel his hand twitch sympathetically. It's really strange to watch himself like this, watch someone else—-him, Spencer reminds himself, that's _actually him_, not just someone who looks like he did when he was sixteen—-make the casual movements that Spencer knows from muscle memory alone.   
    
Also, wow. Spencer's haircut really did kind of make him look like a lesbian.   
    
Ryan had apparently been telling him the truth at the time when he pointed out that haircut didn't really do him any favors. Then again, as far as Spencer can remember, Ryan's haircut had also been kind of stupid and thus Spencer feels he had no room to judge. Glass houses, and all that.   
    
They're apparently not going to talk anymore, because Younger!Spencer just starts up on his drum set again, ignoring Spencer standing at the foot of the stairs. Spencer moves over and sits on the musty couch, the one that's sort of shoved towards the side of the room but not actually up against any of the walls. He tries not to visibly winch at the state of his adolescent drumming. He's not holding the sticks right, grip a little off and his wrists too tight, and Spencer's fingers itch with the need to get up and  correct himself.   
    
The door upstairs slams just as Spencer's cell phone beeps at him, vibrating happily with a "1 NEW MESSAGE!" indicator on his display. He pulls out his specially-issued, Pete Wentz-customized (hence the all the beeping and blinking and buzzing, what the fuck, Pete) iPhone and reads   
    
_R u dead? You disappeared and Ross is kind of freaking out –jw_   
    
Spencer glances up and shit, that's totally seventeen year old Ryan Ross staring back at him on the staircase. He really needs to get out of here before anyone else shows up or...something bad will happen. Like, space-time continuum bad. He shouldn't even really be sitting here right now but he feels strangely powerless to leave.

Also, where else would he go? Spencer feels that despite the obvious difficulties, it's safer for him to stay in his own house than to risk the outside world.   
    
Spencer types back  _n, not dead. Tell ryan his hair looked stupider than mine._   
    
Seventeen-year-old Ryan's gripping the handrail of the stairs like they're going to fall out from underneath him if he doesn't hold on tightly enough.   
    
"What." He says, flatly. And then, "Spencer, fuck you, this isn't funny."   
    
Younger!Spencer looks up at Ryan, then narrows his eyes back at Spencer. "You said you knew Ryan," he says, accusingly. "What the fuck, dude, if you're stalking him or something, you can just get the hell out of my—"  
    
"Spencer," Ryan interrupts, and they both look up, but Ryan is pretty obviously talking to Spencer's younger self. "Look really closely at who you're talking to. Like. _Really_ closely."

His voice is sort of strangled and Spencer feels unexpectedly guilty. Seventeen year old Ryan Ross is more birdlike than Spencer remembers; not delicate, exactly, but thin and angular. He's also, despite the monotone, absolutely furious right now, probably convinced this is some sort of prank. Spencer feels like a jerk. A creepy jerk, even, since Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn't checking out the two inches of pale skin visible between Ryan's t-shirt and his pasted-on jeans.  
    
Younger!Spencer stares at him for a while and Spencer can feel himself biting his lip. He wonders how much time he has left, if there's any way he can conceivably get out of this without making a scene.   
    
"….what the fuck," Younger!Spencer says, finally, eyes wide. "Jesus Christ. You're--"

He pauses, and then says quickly, awe in his voice, "When do I get to grow an awesome beard?"

"Uh," Spencer says, awkwardly, thrown off his game. That was...not the question he was expecting. His phone buzzes against his hip again. "Not for a few years?"   
   
Ryan stumbles down the stairs and points at him accusingly. "You." He says. "You are totally Spencer from the future, what the _fuck._"   
    
"Yeah." Spencer nods, because what the hell else is he supposed to say? He grabs his phone out of his pocket because it just won't stop vibrating and it's starting to make his leg go numb. "And you keep texting me, what the hell, Ryan," he grumbles, even though obviously what future Ryan is doing is in no way this particular Ryan's fault.

Ryan's eyes go wide underneath his newsboy cap.  "I'm. That's me, on the phone? What – wait, holy shit, let me see your crazy future phone!"   
    
Spencer backs away, holding his iPhone out of reach above Ryan's head. It's actually pretty easy to do, considering Ryan hasn't hit his growth spurt yet. "That's a bad idea." he points out. "I'm not actually --- you guys weren't supposed to even be home yet. Like. We really shouldn't even be talking. And I can't show you my phone. Because it doesn't exist yet."

Ryan gives up on jumping for the phone, probably aware of how unintentionally funny he looks, all gangly and awkward. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at Younger!Spencer. "You're kind of lame in the future. Don't think I won't forget it."

Younger!Spencer whacks Ryans on the leg with a drumstick, ignoring his grunt of outrage as he turns to Spencer and shrugs. "I didn't feel good this morning, so I stayed home and then I called Ryan and told him to cut class with me so we could work on some more songs. I'm not actually supposed to be here."   
    
Spencer frowns at himself and flips open his phone again. It figures on the one day they'd picked he'd be skiving off class to hang out with Ryan.   
    
There are three new messages waiting:   
    
_Shut up my hair looked awesome blowme_   
    
and   
    
_Wait why the hell are you talking to past me spencer what the fuck is wrong with you there wasn't supposed to be anyone ther!_   
    
and   
    
_Shit shit shit don't tell them anything important_   
    
Which would be really helpful advice if Ryan didn't already have a preternaturally vicious gleam in his eye. He pokes Spencer in the shoulder, almost hard enough to knock him off balance. "Wait, hold up. You _know_," Ryan hisses. "Are we going to get famous? We're totally going to be rock stars, aren't we. We're going to be famous and we'll play all over the world and get to sleep with hot chicks."

Spencer tries valiantly to keep a straight face. "You want to be famous so you can sleep with hot girls?" He wishes he had a video camera. Why hadn't he thought to bring a camera? This is _priceless._

Ryan pokes him again, mouth set. "It's a perk. You're avoiding the question."

Spencer looks up at his younger self, now slouched against the banister, arms crossed, drumsticks in one hand. He looks mildly annoyed, but he's also biting his lip and there's a trace of something in his expression and Spencer's chest hurts for a minute when he remembers how badly he wanted it. How sure he was that it was never going to happen, no matter what Ryan believed.

There is nothing that Spencer wants more right now than to tell them everything, tell them about Pete and Jon and Brent and Brendon and touring and exhaustion and how it's totally going to be worth it, but.

He can't. Spencer just…he can't. There are rules.   
    
Spencer sighs. "I can't talk about that," he says, knowing it's the most unsatisfying thing he could possibly say right now and hating himself for it.   
    
Ryan tries to glare at him, but mostly succeeds in looking petulant. "Fine. Fuck you. _Don't_ tell us. But you're wearing two-hundred dollar shoes, so I'm pretty sure we're going to be famous. Ass."   
    
Spencer glances down and yeah, he kind of is.   
    
"I could just be a really successful session drummer?" Spencer tries.   
    
"You mean—I get to do this for a living? Holy shit. That is _awesome_." Younger!Spencer is looking at him with wide eyes, pushing himself away from the railing.   
    
Spencer winces. "Can we talk about something else?" He looks down at the phone in his hand and realizes he never texted Ryan back. He decides to go with _it's fine we aren't talking about anything important. You're kind of bitchy and you really like my phone._  
    
Ryan's attempting to peer over his shoulder, and Spencer has to move his entire body to get the text message out of Ryan's line of vision before he hits send. Ryan shrugs when Spencer sends him an accusing look. "Whatever, dude. You would do the same thing if your best friend _from the future_ showed up in your garage and was being all secretive and shit."   
    
"Hey, wait a minute." Ryan bites his lip and looks over at Younger!Spencer. "So. I just realized--We're still friends in the future, huh?" He bounces on his sneakers, hands stuffed into his pockets. "That's. That's pretty cool."   
    
Spencer pauses for a moment while he tries to catch up with Ryan's train of thought, and also because hey, here's another topic he needs to be _really careful about_. In fact, he's pretty sure that this is exactly what Ryan was referring to in his text. It's not like Spencer's particularly likely to sit his younger self down and talk about global politics and nuclear physics.   
    
"Yeah," he says, after a moment spent weighing his options. "We're still friends. And like, Brendon, too. Our apartment is seriously awesome."

Younger!Spencer raises an eyebrow. "We all live together? With Brendon?"

Spencer coughs. "Uh, no. He's got his own place. I meant. Like, you and—-_Me_ and Ryan. We live together."

Ryan looks over at Younger!Spencer and gives him this little half-smile, just a twist of his mouth, and Younger!Spencer bumps his shoulder into Ryan's. It's kind of adorable how they both look so excited about the fact that they're going to be living together but are trying to play it cool. Spencer really can't help himself, he figures this is sort of nonessential information, so he tells them about the backyard patio with the fire pit and the hanging lanterns and the kitchen with the six burner stove and stainless steel counters and all the wooden floors and open space and light, so much light.

"…and then down the hall there's the bedroom, it's got these huge windows that go almost down to the floor, and a seriously great walk-in closet—"

Ryan jumps in, cutting him off. "Wait, bedroom? Singular?"

Spencer frowns, hands frozen in place where he'd been illustrating the height of the windows. "Yeah, why would we need more than one? I mean, there's the guest bedroom, but—"

Ryan's eyes get really wide, and Spencer knows he blew it about three seconds before he hears Ryan's soft little "..._Oh._"

"Fuck," he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Fuck. I'm. You aren't supposed to know that."

Younger!Spencer is stubbing his the toe of his sneaker into the concrete floor and very carefully not looking at Ryan.

Ryan stares down at his hands, shoved into his pockets again, and Spencer can hear him take a deep breath. "Who, um. Who. Makes the first, uh. Move."   
    
Spencer's head shoots up. "Seriously, Ryan?"   
    
"I just." Ryan shrugs with one shoulder, flips his bangs out of his face nervously. "I'm just curious. If we're going to be like, living together and..." Spencer can see Ryan's mouth form the word 'fucking', then think better of it. "...dating and shit. I just want to know how it starts."   
    
Spencer looks over at his younger self and reasons that this can't actually get much worse. He doesn't like Younger!Spencer's posture, sort of hunched in on himself and oh god, _what if it never actually happens?_   
    
Spencer winces, his stomach sinking. He can feel his palms start to sweat.  
    
What if they both get too freaked out to actually do anything, and when Spencer goes back to the future Ryan's like, married with two kids? That's. Spencer is not okay with that, at all.

The tension in the room has increased by roughly ten thousand percent. Spencer knows himself, and he knows Ryan, and the sinking feeling just gets worse as he realizes that they might actually be that awkward and contrary, especially at seventeen.

Spencer needs to do something. Like, fast. He has barely half an hour.

He's pretty sure that if he can just somehow orchestrate his younger self and Ryan into a situation, hormones and instinct and repressed sexuality will take over. Spencer's mind races. It's what, the twelfth of September? Spencer's pretty sure the first time he hooked up with Ryan was in October. So, in like, three weeks Ryan's going to kiss him _anyway_, all overeager and sloppy and Spencer's totally going to kiss him back because, whatever, it wasn't like he'd ever been kissed anyway so it's not like he could tell the difference between a good kiss and a merely enthusiastic one. Also, it was _Ryan_. As far as Spencer was (is) concerned, someone would have to be blind to turn down Ryan Ross.  
    
So. Maybe Spencer can just move the timetable up a bit.   
    
"Um. Well, in like three weeks you're going to offer to blow me." He answers Ryan, keeping his face expressionless.   
    
(Spencer _needs_ this to happen and if it means he has to stand by and watch his younger self get a blowjob from Ryan Ross, well. It's a sacrifice he'll just have to make.)   
    
Younger!Spencer drops his drumsticks with a clatter.   
    
"You're joking," Ryan mutters, eyes wide. He's blinking too much, like there's something in his eye but Spencer knows with Ryan that's just a sign that he's mildly freaking out. "I. uh. I actually say that. To _Spencer_."   
    
He points, helpfully, as if there was anyone else in the room besides Spencer. Spen_cers._ This plurality of self thing is making Spencer's head hurt.    
    
Spencer nods and starts to bullshit, hoping against hope that his admittedly fuzzy memories are correct. He really needs to quit smoking so much weed. "Well it's, see, you've already been looking stuff up online, even though that time two weeks ago when I asked you about it you totally lied to my face. And did such a good job of it that I didn't even know you were lying until like three years later, and I can usually tell."   
    
Ryan glares at him, still blinking. It sort of ruins the effect. Ryan Ross at seventeen has obviously not yet reached the pinnacle of his glaring abilities. "Way to ruin my cover, ass."   
    
Spencer just shrugs, faking the 'casually unconcerned' thing as hard as he can. "You tell me eventually. But it's okay, because I've been doing the same thing, I'm just too stealthy to get caught at it. And I know how to clear my AOL browsing history."  
    
There's a choked cough from behind Spencer's shoulder and he looks over to find his younger self blushing so hard it looks like he's been sunburned. "Um. Shut up, no I haven't," he mumbles, but it's a lost cause.   
    
Spencer lets out an internal sigh of relief because he wasn't actually positive he'd gotten the timetable right on that one. He couldn't remember if he'd been looking at porn—well, _that_ kind of porn—on the family computer just yet.   
    
He checks his phone again – twenty minutes until the failsafe and 2 new text messages that Spencer decides to ignore. He wonders idly if that's it, if that's all the push that's required or if he needs to make this more concrete.  It's strange to see himself like this, unsure and nervous around Ryan.

Spencer knows, objectively, that the amount of time they spent **not** hooking up far outweighs the time they've spent together as a couple.  He knows this. But it's like the time he's spent with Ryan since they both figured it out seems so much brighter, sharper, pulled into focus. It's pretty odd (and hah, Spencer wants to snicker at himself but no one else in the room will get the joke, yet)  to see everything in flux like this, half-finished and open-ended, when Spencer already knows where they will end up.  
    
And the _want_. Seriously, it's so obvious in the cant of his younger self's hips, the way Ryan's cutting his eyes away at the floor and licking his lips. He can practically see the wheels turning in Ryan's head, the tension that clogs up the air between the two of them, the way space shifts and moves between their bodies. Spencer doesn't know how it took him this long to figure it out when he was sixteen.   
    
Spencer's just debating whether or not he should check his phone and actually read the messages—-on the one hand, possible emergency life-saving information; on the other hand, more bitchy messages from his better half-—when Younger!Spencer obviously comes to a decision. He walks purposefully across the room, coming to stand behind the couch and grabbing Ryan's hand.   
Ryan's eyes go wide but he lets himself be pulled over, his knees hitting the couch cushions with a thump. Younger!Spencer leans in, the back of the couch a convenient barrier between their bodies, Spencer notes with amusement. He'd been kind of wondering why his younger self had walked all the way around the room instead of just walking right up to Ryan.

Younger!Spencer mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "don't punch me" before letting his mouth connect with Ryan's, kissing him hesitantly for a few seconds then relaxing into the kiss when Ryan doesn't try to hit him or move away.  
    
Spencer raises an eyebrow, mildly impressed by himself. He hadn't actually been lying about Ryan originally making the first move.   
    
Also, it's really weird to watch himself kiss Ryan. Spencer can almost feel a faint sense-echo of Ryan's skin against his face, soft against his fingers. It's not like they're even old enough to shave, he realizes with surprise. Spencer remembers how good Ryan used to smell, like a mixture of Old Spice and Irish Spring soap and how distracted he used to get when Ryan leaned on him or put his head on his shoulder. Spencer's positive that if he were closer to Ryan right now he'd get a whiff of that same scent, that weird combination of "clean" and "soap" and "boy."   
    
Younger!Spencer breaks the kiss first, cheeks still red and Spencer sort of wants to applaud the two of them. They both look over at him at the same time and he holds up his hands.   
    
"I'm just—uh. I'm going soon. Just. You know. Do your...thing." He tries not to grin in elation. His plan _totally_ worked. Actual future Ryan can totally suck it, with his worried text messages and freaking out and stuff. Spencer Smith is the _man_.   
    
He gets up to move off the couch—-his mouth is kind of dry, actually, he could used some more water—-but Younger!Spencer grabs his arm and firmly pulls him back down.

Spencer frowns. "What," he says, but his younger self is distracted with staring at Ryan as they do their familiar mind-meld thing and holy shit, Jon is right. That _is_ kind of creepy to watch, Spencer realizes belatedly.  
    
Younger!Spencer shakes his head. "Stay," he says to Spencer, firmly, a hint of his normal assertiveness coming back. "We don't know what we're doing, really. You, uh. You're me, so. I guess it's not weird. And you like, know shit," he rambles nervously. Spencer wants to point out there's no need to be _nervous_, since they're the _same person_ and all, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Ryan just nods at him once, a sharp gesture that Spencer knows means _what he said_ before leaning in to kiss Younger!Spencer again, steadying himself with a hand on his bicep. Spencer's so close he can see the exact moment when Ryan slips his younger self the tongue, watches himself gasp, and uh, that's actually kind of hot. Spencer is starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. 

It's a little too much like watching one of his adolescent fantasies played out in front of him, which is really cool but also jarring. Spencer has no idea what the ethics of this situation entails. Could he get in trouble for this? Is it illegal to watch his jailbait-younger self make out with his future boyfriend who is currently, at this precise moment in time, also jailbait? Spencer has no idea.

Spencer watches as Ryan threads a hand into his younger self's hair, scratching at the base of his skull and biting down on his lip. Spencer can hear the choked off moan he makes and yeah, he's definitely staring to get hard because Ryan still does that, that little lip biting thing, and it's really sort of stupidly hot to watch him try it for what is probably the first time on Spencer, to watch Ryan's eyes narrow in victory at Spencer's choked, breathy noises.

Spencer's really not sure why he's still here because honestly, they seem to be doing just fine on their own. He opens his mouth to reiterate his need to be someplace—-anyplace-—else while this goes on and Ryan pulls himself away from Younger!Spencer and sort of falls inexpertly into Spencer's lap, shoving his face in but missing most of Spencer's mouth. He lands on Spencer's shoulder, instead, and while Spencer is trying to get Ryan situated with a minimum of inappropriate groping (which is hard, okay, his jeans are quite literally pasted on and Spencer is only human and there's a lot of skin he's trying not to touch) Ryan licks a wide stripe up his neck, pausing to bite halfway up, his skinny arms twining around Spencer's neck.

Spencer tells himself it's an automatic reaction when his hands go up and he pulls Ryan in, kissing him exactly the way he knows Ryan likes to be kissed, sharp nips of his teeth and little flicks of his tongue. His hands find their way to his sharp hipbones through force of habit and Ryan feels so much tinier under his hands than Spencer remembers but he smells just as good. Shit.

Ryan murmurs "I kind of like the beard on you," into his mouth, half-fascinated, just as Spencer has the presence of mind to realize this situation is pretty much the definition of _not okay._

"Um. I. Thanks?" Spencer realizes he's cradling Ryan's thighs and the curve of his ass, moves his hands up deliberately. "I—he'll have one, too. The Spencer behind you. Like, soon. You should probably make out with him, instead. This—-I'm twenty two, Ryan. This really isn't—"

Ryan pushes back into Spencer's space, pretty obviously comfortable with him now that it's been established that Spencer is, well, Spencer and not some random dude. It's weird how Ryan can shift like that, weirder still for Spencer to see him do it to him, like _he's_ the outsider, here.

"Yeah, but you're also sixteen," Ryan points out with a smirk, wiggling his hips so that Spencer's hands slide back down and god, Ryan just fits perfectly into his hands like this. "You already told me we do this. In the future."

Ryan bites his lip and Spencer can see exactly how much bravado Ryan is throwing into this, exactly how far he's pushing himself out there and Spencer feels that surge of guilt again because it's Ryan, and it's not like this a contest, or an exam and Spencer doesn't want him to feel like he has to impress anyone. Least of all Spencer.

Ryan's still talking, though, even though he's very definitely flushed. "So you like. You know what I like and stuff, because apparently by now we've been, um, 'doing it' for a while. And then you can teach Spencer. Or. Spencer can learn it from himself, because you're. Ugh. This shit is so confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean."

It takes every ounce of Spencer's composure not to snicker at Ryan's earnest description of their sex life as "doing it," but he manages. However, he feels he needs some clarification.

"So. You want to make out with me, while I watch, so that when I go back to my own time I already know how to make out with you the way you like it?"  Spencer is...sort of floored, honestly.

Ryan rolls his eyes, "Are you slow or something? Seriously, shut up and let's make out, you're going back to the future in like ten minutes and we've been talking about blowjobs for like, _ever_ and I want to get off."

Spencer's pretty sure he only mentioned blowjobs once, but Ryan kind of has a point.

He risks a glance at his younger!self, perched on the other end of the couch. He just sort of looks at Spencer and shrugs, a smile playing around his lips that Spencer recognizes immediately, although it's strange to see it on a younger version of his face. It's the same smile that he gives Ryan when he's come up with some new scheme or decorated their entire house with gardenias or decided they need to drop everything and go on a trip to Costa Rica _just because._

"Okay," Spencer mutters into Ryan's mouth, letting his hands (finally!) curve around Ryan's ass and enjoying the shiver he gets in return, "Fine, but the other me needs to be involved, too." Spencer's not so much of an ass he's going to cockblock himself.

Spencer looks up and his younger self has come around the side of the couch, is settling behind Ryan and pulling Ryan's hair away from the back of his neck. Spencer can tell the exact moment Younger!Spencer makes contact because Ryan stiffens and then he just melts. There's no other word for it, really, Spencer can feel the minute the tension in his muscles dissipates and Ryan leans back into Younger!Spencer, giving up control. Ryan's beginning to pant a little, which Spencer can understand. It's not that he's particularly vain but they fall into a rhythm so quickly, passing Ryan's face back and forth between them, his younger!self's impassioned, inexpert kisses and Spencer's slower, more thorough ones. Ryan's practically shaking by the time Spencer realizes they're on a rather tight schedule and he needs to maybe speed things up a notch.

"Turn around," Spencer whispers, turning Ryan's body so that he's fully facing Younger!Spencer, who takes that opportunity to slide a hand back up Ryan's shirt. Spencer pulls at Ryan's hips, watching as Ryan gracefully folds himself down into Spencer's lap, knees tucked underneath him, body between the spread of Spencer's thighs. Ryan moans into Younger!Spencer's mouth as he sits back against Spencer, grinding back against Spencer's crotch instinctively. Spencer has to bite back a gasp, fighting the urge to just throw Ryan down on the couch and fuck him. They don't have time, though, and Spencer has a slightly more useful plan in mind.

Ryan pauses then, turning around to look at Spencer, apparently suddenly realizing he's been maneuvered into position between Younger!Spencer's thighs. "I thought," he says, voice slightly accusatory. "I thought _I_ was getting the blowjob."

Spencer has a feeling it's another show of bravado, since Ryan's other hand is tracing the line of Younger!Spencer's cock through his jeans, apparently unconsciously. Spencer watches over Ryan's shoulder as his younger self bites his lip, unable to stop the slight bucking of his hips into Ryan's hand. Spencer curls his body around Ryan's, runs a hand down Ryan's stomach and pretends not to feel the way the muscles tense and quiver, the way Ryan is trying so hard to hold it together. He tucks his head into the curve of Ryan's neck and whispers softly, "Trust me, you _love_ giving head," into his ear and Spencer's rewarded with a full-body shiver. He pushes Ryan gently forward with his body, crowding him into his younger self, who already has one hand in Ryan's hair as he pulls him in to kiss him.

Spencer glances up at the old clock half-hidden by a stack of broken tennis rackets and shit, nine minutes. He hopes Ryan's as quick a study as he remembers.

Spencer keeps his palm spread over Ryan's stomach, slipping his hand under his tshirt to rest directly on skin. Ryan's hair is kind of getting in his mouth and Spencer has to use his other hand to sweep it back from Ryan's neck, nipping at the side of Ryan's throat while he points out, "You should probably take his pants off."

Ryan nods silently, curling his fingers around the top of Spencer's jeans, breathing harsh and staccato. Spencer gets it, he really does. It's strange and new and different and Spencer knows Ryan is sort of scared, that he wants it but he's not sure what he's doing. Spencer smoothes his hands down Ryan's arms and reaches forward, helping Ryan undo his younger self's jeans and push his boxers out of the way.

Ryan's hands are shaking slightly and Younger!Spencer is sporting an intense blush, the color fanning out across his chest where his t-shirt collar is stretched out. Spencer nuzzles into Ryan's neck, licking and biting, muttering nonsense like "it's okay, I'm here, I'll show you how, you love it, I promise..."

Spencer runs a hand over Ryan's cock lightly, just teasing, and Ryan's hips buck up. Spencer pulls his body back, grinds against him while Ryan whines. His face is flushed and he goes to push Spencer away, muttering "I'm not a kid, Jesus, I can figure it out," and Spencer growls, pulling him back tighter. "Just listen to me, okay," Spencer pants into his hair. " Let me show you how. I know what I'm talking about. Trust me."  
    
Spencer grabs his younger self's hand, pulling it forward until it's just barely an inch from Ryan's lips. Spencer runs his hand over Ryan's mouth, opening his jaw with his thumb. He pulls Younger!Spencer's fingers in, shoving two of them into Ryan's mouth and muttering, "Suck."

Spencer watches as Ryan closes his eyes, hollowing his cheeks around Younger!Spencer's fingers. "Yeah, just like that," Spencer whispers, watching his younger self bite his lip at the feeling of Ryan's tongue curling around his fingers, his cock jerking. Younger!Spencer pulls his fingers away a few seconds later, gasping "Fuck, Ryan," his eyes dark and narrowed.

Spencer uses his body to bend Ryan forward before pulling away slightly, giving him room to breathe. Ryan's head is kind of blocking Spencer's view but Spencer can tell the exact minute his tongue connects with Younger!Spencer's cock because he groans, bucking his hips up into the contact involuntarily.

Spencer places a hand on Younger!Spencer's thigh—-he expects it to be weird, he's been very careful not to touch himself until a few minutes ago but it's just his thigh, the muscles a little leaner, not quite as filled out as his own. He pushes down to hold his younger self in place and he can feel the muscles twitching as his younger self struggles to stay still.

Ryan has his eyes closed, lashes dark against his skin as he opens his mouth and tentatively sucks him down, swirling his tongue around the head. Spencer places his other hand on Ryan's head, not pushing, just rubbing at the base of his skull, feeling the soft hairs at the nape of Ryan's neck.   
"Relax your jaw, don't tense up—-it's, yeah, just like that," Spencer mutters, bringing his hand around to smooth his thumb at the base of Ryan's jaw. He can feel Ryan's throat working under the pad of his thumb, can see his younger self biting his lip, head thrown back as Ryan manages to go almost all the way down, setting up a rhythm.

"You look good like this, Ry," Spencer whispers in his ear, watching him swallow and taste, figure out how to move his hand and his mouth in tandem. Ryan's eyelashes flutter and Spencer moves his hand off of his thigh, confident now that Younger!Spencer isn't going to buck up and choke Ryan, confident Ryan will know how to push him back down or pull off if he does.

Spencer pulls Ryan back against him just a little, letting him melt into the curve of Spencer's body, running a hand down to rub at Ryan's cock through his jeans again and Ryan moans around Spencer's dick.

Younger!Spencer reaches a hand up to cup Ryan's cheek, brushing his fingers at the side of Ryan's mouth where he's drooling, very slightly, lips stretched around Spencer's cock. "Ryan,  your mouth, Jesus _fuck_," he mumbles, voice cracking on the last syllable.

Ryan pulls back for a moment to get some air, one hand working loosely around Spencer's cock, thumbing almost absent-mindedly at the head. His lips are spit-slick, shiny and Spencer knows if he licks into Ryan's mouth he'll taste the salty tang of himself on Ryan's tongue. Spencer pulls back, instead, pushes Ryan towards his younger self and bites his lip as he watches his younger self suddenly realize what's he's tasting on Ryan's lips, watches him kiss Ryan messily, searching for more.

And, _shit_, the air around him is starting to shimmer. There's the telltale tug of gravity, a feeling of being sucked backwards. Spencer leans in, moving Ryan's hand back to Younger!Spencer's cock and whispers "just keep going" near Ryan's ear. He palms his bare hipbone one last time before everything fades to bright, utter white.   
    
\--  
    
It takes Spencer a few minutes to adjust, but the first thing he can see clearly is Ryan's long fingers clutching a Styrofoam cup of coffee. The second thing he can see clearly is Ryan's face, screwed up into a moue of annoyance.   
    
Spencer's hearing is ringing, a little bit, and everyone is talking at him but he just steps out from behind the glass and grabs at Ryan's wrist, plucking the coffee cup neatly out of his hand and handing it to Brendon.   
    
"..seriously, I've been texting you for like, twenty minutes, what the hell happened to you—-that is my _coffee_, you ass—-"   
    
"Ryan," Spencer interrupts, in what he hopes is a _shut the hell up and come with me_ sort of tone. "I need you to come with me. It's _really_ important."   
    
Jon raises his head out from under the console, where he's crouched down next to an open panel, wrench in hand. "Did something cool happen? Can I come?"   
    
"No, just—-just Ryan," Spencer sputters because wow, that mental image isn't helping the state of his libido right now.

Ryan gives him a look, unimpressed, and Spencer is quite literally so hard it's painful.

"_Seriously_, Ryan." Spencer can hear himself whining, and he's not proud of it.

He tugs on Ryan's wrist firmly and manages to drag them both through the swinging double doors and into a dimly light access hall.   
    
Ryan frowns, leaning up against the cinder-block wall with his arms crossed. "You know, I don't think I'm actually talking to you right now."   
    
"That's fine," Spencer says breathlessly, already dropping to his knees and reaching for Ryan's hips. "I wasn't really planning on talking anyway."   
    
\--  
    
Ryan's head hits the wall with loud, painful sounding crack as he comes, hands fisted in Spencer's hair.   
    
"Do I," Ryan pants, swallowing hard against his dry throat. "Do I really want to know why you came back from the past with an overwhelming need to blow me?"

"Uh," Spencer says. "No. Not really."

 


End file.
